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KENNEBEC • A PORTFOLIO OF MAINE WRITING Vol VIII -1984 Published by University of Maine-Augusta Union Station: Portland TilE boy liked the idea of stopping. His mother and father in the front seat ex­ "Pull over," the old man said. changed a look, though. They were riding along St. John Street and had just In the front they _exchanged another look. The mother gave a tiny nod. The cr·ossed Congress. It was a beautiful, crisp, October day . fa ther sighed and put his blinker on. He parked in front of the three-story brick "Pu ll it over," the boy's grandfather said again. He was looki ng at the demolition building that had been the business offices fur the railroad. It was a block away going on. His finger shook a little as he pointed past his grandson's nose a1 the old from w here the work was happening. It was an empty block because all the train station being knocked down. "Pull it over," he said querulously. other buildings were already gone. The business offices were still in use, though. "Yeah!" the ten-year-old boy said. The boy's father got out and unlocked the trunk. He moved the suitcase a little As they watched there was a crash that spanked a cloud of dust into the air. to get room to lift the wheelchair out. Then he unfolded the chair, pushed it up to "There goes the tower!" the boy said happily . He and the old man stared as they the car door and lucked its wheels. He and his wife strained to help the old man went by. The crane was turning away, carrying the heavy black ball at the end of from the back seat. They looked at each other ove•· his bent back. When he was a cable, gathering distance for another attack on the stone wall s. "I wonder if any out they moved him to one side so the door cou ld be shut. He stood unsteadily of those clocks won't break?" the boy said. beside the car, holding onto it , his white hail- uncombed and cowlicked, like the His father, driving, was looking too, in spite of himself. He didn't want to stop, boy's. He looked back at the train station coming down. though. He wanted to get out there and get it over with. He looked past his wife "Can I push?" said the boy, putting his hands on the handles. as the ba ll struck the building again. More stone fell but not so impressively as "I don't think so," his father said. when the tower with the clocks had fallen . "Those clocks are smashed all to hell," "Oh, let him, John," the boy's mother. said. "It's good that he wants to." he answered his son. The old man ignored them, watching the demolition, his head nodding with the John sighed and moved. He looked at his wife. She held her hands apart, palms effort of standing. up. ttl can push him," the boy insisted. When John said it was time to go the old man didn't protest. His grandson "All right then." John touched the old man's arm. "Come on, Pop. Sit down and pushed him back to the car. He wasn't limber enough to turn and look back at the we'll go over and take a look." demolition, so he kept his eyes straight ahead, his hands holding onto the arms of He didn't take his eyes off the train station while they hacked him up and sat the chair, the metal beneath the bright green padding sparkling under his dry old him on the canvas seat of the chair. He ignored, too, the traffic although it passed spotted hands. The sun was high in the sky now. It was warmer, but there was dau~ter~in~law fast and near, and made hls son and nervous. "Watch the cars1 still that crispness in the air. John always thought of it as football weather. That's now;• John told the boy. what he was thinking as they walked back toward the car. Behind him he could 1 "Ready, Gramp?" hear the sound the chair's rubber wheels made in the bricks. "Take me Gver there/' the thifl, old voice said. He struggled to get the chair to fit back in the trunk with the old man's suitcase. There was a break in the curb where there had been a driveway to one of the John slammed the trunk lid shut. He felt the hreeze on his damp forehead walk­ torn-down buildings. '!'he boy pushed hard, got some momentum up, and rolled ing back to get in to the car. Then they were underway again. They drove onto the wheelchair onto the brick sidewalk. The four of them went along the side­ the bridge and crossed the river with everyone being quiet exc'ept the boy, who walk and stopped a hundred yards from what was left of the old stone building. chattered and pointed out an old barge moving heavily. It was noisy with the loaders and dumptrucks working at the far end of the Coming back it was late afternoon. The sun slanted into the trees on one side of building. The loaders were scoop[ng up the stone fragments, hanging their the highway. The other side was in shadows. It was getting dark earlier these blades on the sides of the dumptrucks, the loads crashing in and shaking the days. trucks. Middle-aged men in T-shirts set in the durnptrucks, their arms out the John and his wife were quiet in the front, tired from the strain. The boy had ""'indows. At the near end the crane was pivoting to swing the ball into the waJL been quiet, too. He was alone in the back. They left the highway and took the When the ball struck, it seemed to pause on contact and then to push slowing ramp to the bridge. into the stone, the sound thick and muffled. The ball dangled in slow motior. at "Gramp wasn't happy," the boy said. the end of the cable as the fragments felL They were on the bridge, re-crossing the river. On the right were the tank "~eat~" the boy said. farms where the tankers unloaded. His grandfather sat silently watching, leaning forward in the wheelchair. The "He'll be happy once he gets used to it," John said. "He just has to get used to it." boy's father had walked a little away and was leaning against a light pole with his "He'll make a lot of new friends, Tommy," the boy's mother said. She smiled arms crossed, looking sadly at the ol_d man. His wife came over. tiredly at him over the seat back. "What timing," John said to her, shaking his head. '"You can come with us when we visit," John told the hoy. She laughed a little. "Of all the days." ..'\:Ve'll visit lots," Mary said. "1 didn't know they were knocking it dovvn today," John sa~d. "He \Vasn't very happy," Tommy said, 1'He didn't even want to unpack his suit­ They were keeping their voices low even though the old man didn't hear well case. l thought you said he'd be happier there." His attention was drawn hy the any more. Besides, there was the noise. But they spoke quietly, anyWay. tanker sitting low in the water, waiting to unload. Then they were by it Tommy "It's a shame, such a nice old building," the woman said. "It's too bad they looked out the back windshield for a moment before turning around. couldn't find some other use for it.'' "He will once he gets used to it," John said. "lt was a nice old building," John said. "But whal are you going to do v.rhen They left the bridge, went down the ramp and were on St. John Street. They there arent any more trains?" He sighed. "1 guess they figure we need a depart~ went past the tire place and the brick office-building and stopped at the red light ment store." at Congress. Waiting for the light to change they looked at the darkened lot The dumptrucks, fully loaded, were rumbling out of the lot onto St. John where the old train station had stood. The crane was gone and so were the Street. The loaders were quiet. But the crane was still swinging the ball into the loaders and dump! rucks. The building was gone except for a stone outline close ruins of the statlon. to the ground. "Did you read the editorials last night?" the woman said. "It's all gone!" Tommy said. "Except that little bit." "Nope.'' · "They'll get the rest of it with jackhammers," John said. "There was a pretty good one about what a shame it was to tear down Union "It sure came down easily/' Mary said. "It is kind of a shame, isn't it John?" Station for a department store when lhere are already so many department "Yeah, it is," John said. "It was quite a building in its time." stores around and only one Union Station,'' The light turned green and John put the car in gear and stepped on the gas. John looked at her and shrugged sympathetically. They moved across the intersection. It was dark enough that headlights were "They said it bad dignity," she said.

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